


Providence Is Not Kind

by Waxwing



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), Hellraiser (Movies), Nightmare on Elm Street (Movies)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Retcon, cross-over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waxwing/pseuds/Waxwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story basically came out of my learning that Robert Englund was one of the random mental patients in the asylum scene in Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child and being struck with a burning desire to write a sex scene between mental patient Robert Englund and Amanda Krueger. Robert Englund was pretty cute when he was younger, so of course I had to go and write a story where he has uncomfortable dub-con sex with a nun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amanda's ticking clock.

Amanda tries to console herself with the fact that at least he’s not one of the asylums more rabid inmates. There’s no doubt in her mind that he has the capacity to be violent, if he didn’t he wouldn’t be here, but if she had to rank the inmates in order of who she believed was most likely to try and murder her during their...encounter, he’d be near the bottom of the list. Not that that makes her any less nervous about what she has to do or takes away any of the dread and disgust she feels. The fact that her risk of dying during the act is relatively low won’t make her feel any less defiled afterward either. There is some irony in her having to actively give away her chastity in order to keep herself out of the pits of Hell after having spent 30 years jealously guarding it for that same reason. 

It has also occurred to her that what she does to save her soul for the time being may only doom it later, though if God is truly all seeing and all knowing then he must understand that she has no choice. In her prayers she begs God to see how trapped she is and as days of inaction go by she begins to swear that there is something almost spiteful about his lack of response. She HAS been given a deadline and those who gave it to her do not seem the forgiving type. It’s not that she’s done NOTHING mind you, she’s sure one...coupling won’t be enough (she’s not that lucky) so she’s gone to the trouble of finding a relatively private place that she can lure him off to on as many occasions as are necessary. The overabundance of patients (the asylum currently holds twice as many as it was built to house) and the lack of guards ensures that the “luring off” portion will not be difficult either. The number of nuns who’ve already complained of being assaulted is proof enough that the inmates are not as carefully monitored as they should be. 

Admitting that all the necessary prior considerations have been made only forces her to admit that she’s just stalling now...because she’s afraid. It would be possible for her to gain access to his file but she hasn’t because she genuinely does not want to know what he did to wind up here. Knowing exactly what kind of taint she will be allowing into her body would do nothing to ease her anxiety. A part of her wonders why exactly they picked him (he’s just barely taller than her, with a weak chin, big ears and deceptively gentle eyes) but her rational mind knows that she’s better off if that remains a mystery. She’s overheard him being called “Robert” and even that is more about him than she cares to know. She awakes one morning and realizes that she only has a month left to accomplish the task with which she’s been charged and this is enough to make her decide that now is the time to start.


	2. What ever happened to Cathy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning, this is where the dub con stuff happens.

Amanda has no idea if she’s lovely or not. Truth be told, she’s never had a reason to notice or care if men find her appealing. Luckily they’re not allowed mirrors in the convent so she’s not afforded any opportunities to fret over her appearance. She tells herself she should put any such thoughts out of her mind anyway, she’s no young bride anticipating her wedding night. Besides, she doubts he has particularly discriminating taste, it’s probably been some time since he’s touched a woman and if any of the things her mother used to tell her about men’s ‘baser urges’ are true... 

Though her faith in the male genders boundless sexual ravenousness does falter a bit when he only seems confused as to why she asked him to follow her into a secluded storage space in the basement. Instead of falling on her the instant they’re alone as she’d expected, he stands just inside the door and eyes her questioningly...almost like a rational person. The uncomfortable silence goes on for a small eternity before she finally summons the courage to speak. 

“I want you to....to...take me.” 

She can’t bring herself to be any more direct in her request and is embarrassed at how small and unsteady her voice sounds. In her defence she’s had no practice as a seductress either. 

“By ‘take’...you mean in the...um...biblical sense?” 

He laughs nervously at his own joke and gives a strained, faintly shark-like smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t move towards her and gives no sign that he intends to any time in the near future. 

”Yes.” 

Her flat tone wipes the smile off his face and his expression shifts to a combination of confusion and concern. She had not expected this to be so difficult but tries to keep the irritation out of her voice. 

“Do you want to?” 

He looks down and scratches the back of his neck as though he’s been caught doing something. She finds herself combing her memory for times she’s caught him staring at her and finds none but his reaction implies that he’s at least entertained impure thoughts about her...and that he feels guilty. Fearing that things might be going in the wrong direction, she says what she thinks he wants to hear. 

“It’s alright if you do, more than alright in fact.” 

“Who’ve you been talking to?” 

His eyes flash with paranoia and she’s almost comforted by that because at least it’s what she’d expected from him. 

“Who would I have been talking to?” 

“I don’t know but whoever it is if they...if they say that I talk dirty about you the way the others do they’re a god damned liar!” 

His paranoia seems to be swiftly escalating to rage and suddenly she’s all too aware of the fact that from down here no one on the ground floor would be able to hear her scream. 

“I wasn’t aware that the others talked about me and I don’t care if they do.” 

She aims for a calming tone but a fuse inside him seems to have been lit. 

“I even told that son of a bitch Clive that if he wants to keep his one good eye, he’ll keep his fuckin’ mouth shut because I’m not afraid to go back in the pit. If those jagoffs who keep me here think that the thought of spending a few days in the dark actually scares me, they’re even dumber than they look.” 

The words are hissed out fast through clenched teeth but Amanda gets the gist of them. ‘The pit’ is a light proof, sound proof, padded room that they lock unruly patients in, it’s meant to be a ‘calming treatment’ but everyone knows that the guards use it as a punishment. She has no idea who Clive is but that’s not really of consequence. The realization that this lunatic with whom she’s never so much as made eyes contact feels so possessive of her that he’s been defending her honor to the other inmates profoundly unnerves her but she tries to seem flattered instead. 

“I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble on my account, especially since no one’s said anything to me about you.” 

The latter part of her statement seems to calm him a little, his countenance softens from anger to confusion. 

“How do you know then?” 

“I suppose I just...noticed.” 

He seems genuinely touched by this and for a moment she almost feels guilty. 

“I didn’t think you noticed me at all, in fact I didn’t think you even knew me from Adam.” 

She realizes the bible reference is intended as another joke and pointedly doesn’t react to it, hoping that if she doesn’t give him the reaction he wants he’ll stop doing that. He still has his arms defensively crossed in front of him but most of the tension has melted from his frame so Amanda begins to cautiously move towards him. She may not know much about the act of conception but she’s sure that for it to happen they’ll need to be physically near each other. For his part he at least doesn’t recoil but he does watch her cautiously. 

“I have noticed you though, particularly how you’ve noticed me.” 

“I swear...I would never...” 

“I know, you’re not like the others, I can tell.” 

Of course she’s only saying it because she knows it’s what he wants to hear, she didn’t notice him at all until she was forced to, but it seems to have the desired effect. The expression on his face suggests that she’s just relieved him of some sort of internal burden. She summons all of her courage to reach out and take his right hand between both of hers. His muscles involuntarily flutter but he doesn’t resist until she places his hand on her breast, where she had thought he’d want to touch her. He doesn’t pull away but seizes up. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She looks up at him and can’t help but notice that his breathing has gotten heavier and his pupils are a little dilated. 

“Uh....not to look a gift horse in the mouth but...aren’t you girls supposed to be celibate?” 

There’s a tense quaver in his voice that she can’t for the life of her interpret and in spite of herself,she balks at his daring to question her conduct. 

“Who are you to lecture anyone on what they’re SUPPOSED to be?” 

He seizes her wrist when she tries to back away and panic wells up inside her. This seems to bother him and he goes on in a tone that seems intended to to be soothing but doesn’t let go of her wrist. 

“I’m sorry...it’s just....you are a...a virgin...aren’t you?” 

The reverence with which he says the word ‘virgin’, the way his tongue seems to cradle each syllable, suggests that he has a particular fondness for the word. Everything about the way he puts the question to her implies that he’ll be deeply disappointed if the answer isn’t yes. Of course, she thinks, they’d command her to conceive a child with the one lunatic in the asylum to whom her chastity apparently means something...they are sadists after all. 

“Of course I am.” 

Unable to meet his eyes, she keeps her gaze on the hand wrapped around her wrist. His hands are very calloused and for a moment she finds herself wondering what (if anything) he did for a living before he did whatever got him here and feeling strangely sad. She won’t ask though, no matter what. He seems strangely relieved by her confirmation and then confused again. 

“And you want me to...take your virginity?” 

His tone is pure confusion, as though the prospect of a woman wanting him had genuinely never occurred to him. In a way she can sympathize since it had never occurred to her that he may have the presence of mind to notice how little sense this situation makes. For a mad moment she considers telling him the truth, would he believe her? Would he be sympathetic to her plight? Or would he assume she was even madder than he was? Ultimately she decides that she’d better lie. If THEY had wanted him to know, they’d have told him...wouldn’t they? 

“I do.” 

“Why?” 

Again he reacts as though being confronted with a concept that is entirely foreign to him. In his confusion he’s loosened his grip on her wrist, she pulls her hand away slowly so that the movement cannot be interpreted as aggressive. He’s looking at her with great concentration now, as though trying to solve a puzzle. For the first time she realizes just how little she likes being stared at. To hide her discomfort she forces herself to make eye contact with him, reluctantly noticing that his eyes are green. 

“I just...” She gropes in her mind for the sort of thing that would make sense to him, though she’d probably have to spend less time groping if she knew literally anything about him. “I thought that what I wanted was to stay...pure but it turns out that without even realizing it was...waiting for some and I think that someone is you.” 

That seems to hit the right cord and she’s surprised at how good at lying she is considering how little of it she’s done in her life. For added measure she carefully reaches out and takes his very calloused right hand between both of hers again. 

“I feel this connection to you that I can’t explain, I know it doesn’t make any sense but...” 

“No, it does...” He laughs in a way that somehow manages to sound simultaneously happy and sad. “I know exactly what you mean.” 

She finds herself unexpectedly empathizing with him again because right now she’s simultaneously relieved and horrified. This very sick man clearly has some sort of unhealthy fixation on her...and she’s just validated it. 

“Since the first time I saw you I can’t get you out of my head and I...I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything but I...I don’t deserve...” 

He pulls his hand from her grip and backs away. When he goes on his voice is choked as though he’s suppressing something. 

“If you knew what I did...to...to Cathy.” 

When he says the woman’s name his voice is barely audible and she can see in his eyes that something in him is slipping. In her panic she does the only thing she can think of, she closes the distance between them and kisses him. It’s not her first kiss, she can vaguely remember some poor boys clumsy attempts to seduce her when she was very young, but it’s just as awkward. His lips are horribly chapped and the inside of his mouth tastes bitter like chewed pills. At first he doesn’t respond but then that something in him does slip and before she knows it he’s pinning her to one of the cold stone walls and kissing her like he wants to swallow her. 

Her head hits the wall with just enough force to ensure that she’s disoriented when he starts to rip off her clothes. The first thing to go is her headdress, he moans into her mouth as though the texture of her hair were the most erotic thing he’s ever experienced. Luckily she’s regained her faculties by the time her starts pulling at the front of her robes. 

“Wait!” She gasps as soon as she can separate her mouth from his. When he shows no signs of stopping she tries to push his hands away and is rewarded with him seizing both her wrists and pinning them above her head, the rough texture of that wall bites into the skin on the back of her hands. She turns her head when he tries to kiss her again but he seems as satisfied with the side of her neck as he was with her mouth. To her shame her body responds on a visceral level to his rabid sucking and biting. Even the smell of cigarettes on his clothes, only noticeable now that he’s so close, sends a sick little thrill through her and she tries not to think about what that means. When he resumes his assault on her clothing she remembers what she’d been about to say. 

“Wait...please let me take it off myself.” 

He pauses finally and looks questioningly at her face. 

“If I go back to the convent with a ripped habit, they’ll get suspicious.” 

Seemingly satisfied with her explanation, he slowly backs off and lowers his eyes to floor. She’d find it funny that the man who was about to rip her clothes off doesn’t want to watch her undress if she weren’t so busy being alarmed by how much he seems to be struggling to keep himself under control. His whole body is tense and trembling and his breathing is deep but rapid, his hands are balled into such tight fists that all his knuckles are white. In that moment Amanda has to try equally hard not to wonder what exactly he did to ‘Cathy.’ 

As she undresses she prays for protection in her mind despite the fact that by this point she’s certain God either is not listening or does not care. She folds her clothes and finds a moderately clean place on the floor to put them. He still doesn’t look up, even when she’s standing right in front of him again. Steeling herself, remembering that she NEEDS this to happen, she reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. He jumps at the touch and abruptly looks up at her with a bewildered expression, as though he’d somehow forgotten she was there despite still being noticeably aroused. There’s something else there too, a strange mix of fear and sadness, but she only has a moment to try and decipher it before it’s gone and he’s back on her again. 

His kiss isn’t as rough now but it’s no less hungry and urgent. He also seems to both want to touch her and not want to touch her, resulting in his hands sort of skimming over her body, her throat, her breasts, down around her waist. Eventually she grows frustrated with his reluctance (she wants this over and it can’t end until it actually begins) and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his body flush with hers. He growls like a hungry dog and wraps his arms around her just tight enough for it to be uncomfortable, she has to fight her instinct to struggle in his grip. She strokes the back of his neck, a gesture meant to calm him more for her own benefit than his. 

The kiss goes on longer than she cares for so she decides she’d better cut to the chase. She clumsily runs her right hand down his chest to his belt, her slight tug gives him pause. After a moment's hesitation he backs away again and begins to scramble out of his clothes. He lets them fall in a heap on the floor, showing less care than she thinks he should considering that they’re likely the only garments he owns. The asylum’s miniscule budget requires them to feed the inmates as little as possible and that definitely shows in his physique. His gaunt yet slightly muscled build reminds her uncomfortably of images of the crucifixion that she’s seen. 

Eager to proceed to the next step she moves away before he can grab her again and goes to sit on a pile of tarps in the corner. As he approaches her his body posture is strangely shy, so she lays down and closes her eyes. She doesn’t really want to look at him anyway. The warmth of his skin as he lies on top of her causes that ugly little visceral reaction to show up again. She takes a deep breath and tries to mentally leave her body but he’s having none of it. He grabs her face roughly and turns her head towards him. 

“Look...at...me.” He hisses and the bitter, seething rage in his voice is easily the most terrifying thing she’s ever heard. Amanda’s never seen the look of someone who’s about to murder her but she thinks that what she’s greeted with when she opens her eyes is something like it. Clearly she’s hit a nerve. She reaches up and winds her finger in his dirty blonde curls and then says what she knows he wants to hear...again. 

“I’m sorry...it’s just that I’ve never done this before and...I’m nervous.” 

“Oh.” He laughs and dips down to nuzzle her throat, switching from rage to tenderness with unsettling abruptness. “Well you come to the right place sweetheart, if there’s anything I know how to do it’s make a pretty girl scream.” 

It’s another joke (a sick, unfunny joke) but something about the way he purrs it against her ear makes her shiver inside. Her responding laugh is purely from nervousness but it seems to bolster his confidence. He kisses her again with a firm, steady control that had been completely absent before. When his tongue worms between her lips, she moans despite that taste of chemicals. She’s caught off guard when he breaks the kiss and continues down her neck, one hand coming up that wind in her hair and pull her head back, gaining him better access. 

There’s something disturbingly infantile in the focus and intensity with which he suckles at her breasts. What’s more disturbing is that each brush of his lips, tongue and teeth against her nipples seems to radiate to between her legs. She finds herself gripping his hair for dear life, realizing in the back of her mind that it may seem as though she’s trying to keep him there. He carefully disentangles her hands so he can shift further down. Her eyes stay carefully tained on the ceiling and she doesn’t realize what he’s about to do until she feels him bury his nose in the coarse hair between her legs and run his tongue over her slit. She gasps, repulsed, and tries to move away but is stopped by his bruising grip on her hips. He may not be much larger than her but he’s certainly stronger. 

She means to keep struggling (really she does) but he keeps lapping at her and eventually hits something that makes her whole body spasm and her eyes roll back in her head. As she loses control he’s completely shameless in his enjoyment of her, panting and growling like a starved animal that’s finally found food. Amanda can’t breathe and her heart is pounding so hard it hurts. Just as she thinks she can’t take it any more she feels her inner walls involuntarily clench, her mind goes blank and for an all too brief moment every fiber of her being is flooded with pure sunshine. It’s a good thing that no one on the ground floor can hear her scream because if they could they’d definitely be hearing it now. 

“Mmmm-mmmm.” She’s startled by the sound of him cooing in her ear, somehow not having noticed him climbing back on top of her. “Wet and sweet like ripe peaches...my favorite.” 

She almost pulls away but for some reason at the moment that rational impulse is conflicting with a strange urge to cling to him. He takes her face between his hands and gives her something almost too violent to be a kiss. She’s ashamed to find herself both repulsed and aroused by the taste of her own fluids in his mouth. 

“You’re not like those other sluts are you baby?” He breathes against her lips, eyes locked with hers, on hand wrapped loosely around her throat, the other tangled in her hair. “You’re my girl.” 

She’s too dazed by mixture of conflicting feelings and sensations warring inside her to speak until he jerks violently on her hair. 

“Say it.” It’s unmistakably a command and his voice teeters dangerously between teasing and threatening. 

“I’m your girl.” She stammers while bringing a trembling hand up to touch the side of his face. 

He turns his head and licks her palm and bites playfully at her fingers before taking both her wrists in his and pinning them above her head again. There’s a stretching, tearing sensation as he enters her and she gasps and writhes but he doesn’t let her go. He keeps her firmly pinned like a moth on cork board and watches her face as he continues to violate her. By the time he spends himself inside her she’s sobbing. Even after he finishes he holds her there long enough to lick the tears off of her cheeks and give her a rough, possessive kiss before finally letting her go. 

As they both get dressed he watches her cautiously as though he expects that at any moment she’ll come to her senses and fly into a panic at the realization of what she’s just allowed him to do to her. She takes great care not to meet his eyes until she’s calmed the storm inside her. As she’s about to leave he grabs her arm and looks questioningly into her face. It’s back again, that pure confusion. 

“Same time tomorrow?” She blurts out before he can say anything. Those words cause the strangest expression to spread over his face...a smile...genuine relief...genuine happiness. It makes her feel warm inside in a way she loathes more than anything. 

“Sure.” He breathes, all the bravado displayed during the act replaced by abashed shyness. “Whatever my girl wants.”


	3. Then Wake Up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!

Amanda is awoken in the middle of the night by the fact that she’s suddenly freezing and knows that they’re there without having to roll over to look at them. She lays staring at the wall, wanting to delay that moment as long as possible, until she hears the ragged, breathy voice of the only female in the group. 

“Amanda Krueger...we know you’re awake.” 

Expecting to see them standing there does nothing to dull her body’s instinctive reaction to them. Her heart races and her body trembles before her mind even fully registers what she’s seeing. The obese one with the gaping wound in it’s exposed stomach hovers like a shadow in the far right corner. The one with no face save a mouth grotesquely stretched into a permanent snarl is to the far left, crouching as though prone to lunge forward. The female is nearest to the bed, twisting a large metal hook idly in her delicate hands, her serene expression contrasting with the suggestively splayed, open wound on her throat. In the center of the room their leader looms like a pillar of onyx, his strangely soft facial features pierced at regular intervals with nails that must be hammered into the bone. Where his eyes should be there is a placid, black infinity that Amanda knows she’d never be able to look directly into no matter how many times she saw him. Their bluish-grey skin gives off a faint glow that would be beautiful were it not for everything else about them. 

“I...I still have one more week.” 

Is all she can manage to stammer through the growing tightness in her chest. 

“Which you do not require.” 

The leader’s voice fills the room and her mind, blocking out all other sound regardless of the volume at which he speaks. As usual it takes her mind a moment to begin fully functioning again in wake of that voice (she finds that when he talks it’s impossible to think about anything other than his words) but the instant it does his meaning dawns on her. Her hand instinctively goes to her stomach and she’s flooded with a mix of relief, dread and nausea. She swears she sees the faintest hint of smile cross his features but it’s a micro expression so subtle that it’s just as likely that she imagined it. 

“Yes, child, that which you will trade for your freedom grows inside you as we speak.” 

“Your work is finished, Amanda Krueger.” 

The female chimes in, her expression more noticeably amused. 

“Now you’ve only to let nature run it’s course.” 

She says the second half as though it were a joke and Amanda’s nausea becomes more pronounced. All at once Amada is overwhelmed, she had NEEDED this to happen but had worked so hard not to think about what it actually meant that she’s not at all emotionally prepared for it. 

“Wait...so...how exactly does this work?” 

She tries to look at the leader's face but finds her eyes irresistibly drawn to the floor in front of him, a voice in the back of her mind whispers that she should be there on her knees. 

“Surely you are not completely unfamiliar with the reproductive process?” 

This may or may not be meant sarcastically, his tone gives no hint either way and she still can’t look at his face. 

“No...I mean, yes I am...I just meant...are you going to come back for it after it’s born...or...” 

“You will carry it in your womb and you will give birth, once it is expelled from your body you will have no further dealings with. It’s fate is none of your concern.” 

Like everything that comes out of his mouth, this rings as absolute truth. 

“But aren’t you going to take it to...to...your master?” 

“Are you so eager to pay more Amanda?” 

The question confuses Amanda so much that she looks up and almost meets his eyes...that is until her every instinct screams at her to look away. He goes on. 

“Any further information gleaned from me will come at a price and you behave as though you believe the one you are already paying to be unreasonably high, have we not extracted enough for your liking?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Amanda has no idea what she’s apologizing for but the words seem to come out reflexively in response to the disapproval in his tone. The female takes a menacing step towards her. 

“If you are so curious about our ways, perhaps we should take you with us after all, back to where we can give you a TRUE education.” 

They’ve done this to her before, the leader opens a wound and then the female rubs salt into it, it’s an effective tactic. Amanda cowers. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry...I don’t need to know anything else. I just wanted to make sure I understood what I’m supposed to do...so that I don’t ruin...it.” 

“Your performance thus far has been exemplary.” 

There’s just enough of a smirk in his voice to make the commendation sound dirty. Amanda is struck with horror as she wonders if he could somehow see what he’d forced her to do, letting that madman ravish her. Her face grows hot and she finds herself unable to speak. When he speaks again his voice has just a little softer, if she didn’t know better she’d think he was taking pity on her embarrassment. 

“At the nearest opportunity you will return the box to where you first discovered it, accomplish that in a timely manner and this will be the last you see of us.” 

“You should sleep now.” 

The female coos. 

“A woman in your condition needs her rest.” 

Amanda thinks she hears the obese one snicker but when she glances up the four denizens of hell are gone. Not only is she alone but the darkness around her is heavy with stillness and silence...as though there was never anyone there. 

The pregnancy is nothing short of miserable. She hides it for as long as she can but the morning sickness starts when she’s only three weeks in and shortly after one of the asylum's doctors diagnoses her as pregnant. Of course the mother superior is told and Amanda is rigorously questioned about the circumstances under which the conception occurs. For once her weak constitution works in her favor, she breaks down and cries and then the questioning abruptly ends. Amanda is told that she will no longer be working at the asylum and is not to leave the grounds of the convent until the child is born. She knows that all the others are assuming the worst and she lets them. 

For the next nine months she’s treated as though she has a terminal illness and for most of that time such treatment is appropriate. She is always exhausted, her head and body never cease aching and she keeps down so little food that she worries her body may prematurely expel the fetus purely for lack of enough energy to grow it. On and off the concern enters her mind that Robert may take note of her absence, God forbid he should say something or ask any suspicious questions, but if he does no one bothers to tell her about it. Barely anyone speaks to her at all, she’s watched over primarily by two novices who are polite to her face but talk about her in furtive whispers when they think she’s asleep. Sometimes she wakes up alone in the middle of the night and swears she can FEEL a presence in the room, something distinctly inhuman. 

The worst part by far is the nightmares. She sleeps nearly constantly but never for more than a few hours at a time before she starts awake in horror. She dreams of Robert climbing through her window and carving the fetus out of her with a dull knife, she dreams of being eaten from the inside, she dreams of giving birth to a thing with a head full of nails and feeling it drag her organs with it as it slides out of her. All of these are accompanied by sensations so realistic that they leave her sore even after she’s woken. For some reason she feels with sickening certainty that someone is watching all this and enjoying it. 

The puzzle box is still hidden under her bed. She’d planned to return it to the ivy covered niche in the wall of the courtyard outside the asylum but her symptoms combined with the fact that she’s been forbidden from returning there have made that impossible. She tells herself that he DID say “at the nearest opportunity” and he can’t possibly not realize that she hasn’t had one but that does nothing to assuage her anxiety. After a few months she starts hearing soft, hauntingly familiar music from under her bed at night but by that point she’s not sure when she’s awake and when she’s dreaming. By the the ninth month she’s become prone to fits of hysteria and they’ve started force feeding her sedatives ins spite of her protests. 

As the ninth month comes to a close with no sign of her going into labor, she becomes convinced that the deal she struck with them was actually a reuse and they have just dragged her to Hell...this is her Hell. The sedatives erase the barrier between consciousness and unconsciousness and she’s left at the mercy of the constant parade of horrors inside her mind. She doesn’t remember it at all but at some point she must have tried to hurt herself because they start keeping her in the same four point restraints they use on the inmates of the asylum. Mother superior begins looking in on her regularly...or maybe she’s been looking in on her all along and she’s just never been awake for it...or maybe she’s not even looking in on her now and she’s only dreaming it. Either way she has memories of the old woman sitting next to her bed and reading to her from the bible, stroking her hair in a motherly fashion. 

She awakes one night and is struck by the novel realization that she KNOWS she’s awake, she feels more lucid now than she has in months. Her first instinct is to begin tugging at her restraints but then she feels eyes on her and looks over to see the leader of the denizens of Hell standing by the window. It takes her a moment to register that it’s him because he looks far more...corporeal now then he ever has before, not ethereal or unnaturally tall...his skin isn’t even glowing. The way the moonlight hits his pallid flesh makes him look markedly corpse-like but that’s somehow less frightening than his usual appearance. Perhaps it’s because of this that the fear that usually surges up inside her at the sight of him is so easily replaced by anger. 

“You lied to me!” 

She hisses before she even has a chance to consider the possible negative ramifications of her words. 

“Lied?” 

He tilts his head quizzically, emoting now as though he were a real person. His voice is still deep and resonant but now it’s the deep resonant voice of a human man, she thinks she can even hear faint traces of an accent. 

“I have told no lies Amanda Kruger...not to you.” 

“Then when is it going to end?” 

Despite the new found boldness Amanda’s rage has given her the question breaks off in a sob. The demon is contemplatively silent for a moment and then goes on as though he hadn't heard her, his eyes locked on her stomach. 

“How does it feel?” 

“Like Hell itself is inside me.” 

“Inside?” 

There’s clear amusement in his tone and then, yes, a smile. 

“Isn’t it always?” 

Tears finally spill down Amanda's cheeks, even at her best she finds talking to him painfully frustrating and she’s nowhere near her best now. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” 

He seems mildly taken aback by this, as though she’s insulted him. 

“Amanda Krueger, since you’ve conceived I have done nothing apart from observe.” 

Amanda doesn’t know how to respond to this, she’d been sure all she’s suffered had been a punishment for her having kept the box but, like all the other things that come out of his mouth, his response is undeniably true. She struggles for further questions but then it dawns on her. If it’s not the proximity of the box that’s having this affect on her it must be...the baby...Hell truly is inside her. She can suddenly acutely feel the weight of the thing inside her, feel it subtly shifting and she’s hit with renewed nausea. 

“Please, please just take it now....I can’t bare to have it inside me any more.” 

“You would have it out? That is your wish?” 

“Yes.” 

She replies with a resolve that falters considerably when he steps towards her. Because her gaze instinctively drifts to the floor as he approaches, it’s all the more startling when his hand caresses her face. His fingers, which she notices for the first time are permanently stained red, slide down under her chin and force her to meet his gaze. Looking into his eyes is even more terrifying than she thought it would be because she never wants to stop looking. She wants to swim in the blackness inside him, be submerged and consumed by it, take it into her lungs and choke on it. 

Peripherally she feels his hand slide down between her breasts and come to rest on her stomach. When he speaks again his voice fills not just her mind but every fiber of her being with just three words. 

“Then wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explanation for how Freddy got his powers in the films isn't very satisfying and doesn't make much sense, so I came up with a new one. It only makes a little more sense but it involves Pinhead, which in my opinion makes it 100 times better.


	4. The Wrap Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what it says on the tin.

Amanda opens her eyes to the bland, bright whiteness of a hospital room...when did they move her to a hospital? How long has she been here? She only has a moment to wonder before she realizes she’s lashed to the bed she’s laying on with a leather strap across her chest. There’s a sheet hanging from a metal frame obscuring her lower body from her view. She can hear hushed voices from the other side. 

Attempts to speak produce nothing, her mouth won't even move, and she finds that she cannot even struggle against the leather strap...as though she were paralyzed. A nurse walks into the room from a door behind her carrying a metal tray, passing her without even looking down. Amanda doesn’t have any medical knowledge but doesn’t require it to realize that the sharp implements on the tray are for use in surgery. At the feeling of some cold liquid being spread just above her pelvis, Amanda has a terrible realization that causes her confusion to flare into full on panic. The baby...they’re going to cut it out...she’s conscious...and she can’t move...and they’re going to...CUT...IT...OUT. 

__________________________________________ 

Amanda has been practically catatonic since the c-section. The doctors say that it appears to be a case of extreme shock and that in time she may come out of it. The Mother Superior goes to see her every day (as she had during her accursed pregnancy) and talks to her without expecting a response. As the poor girl has no family to speak of, no one objects to the old woman taking charge of the situation. She’s already decided that Amanda is only to remain here until she is physically stable enough to be moved, at which time she’ll be relocated to a cloistered convent one state over. It will be peaceful for her there and peace is what she needs. 

The child itself is pitiful, a ragged, skinny little bird without feathers. This isn’t surprising given how little Amanda ate while bearing it. The old woman thinks that it doesn’t look strong enough to survive to adulthood and for a moment entertains the notion that perhaps it’s for the best if it doesn’t. Once that moment is over she puts the thought out of her mind. Rather the child is to live or die should be left up to God and so that is where she will leave it. 

She has connections in several church run orphanages and will choose from among them when it, too, is approved to travel. At first she considered that Amanda may want to keep it but at the mere mention of the thing the woman dissolves into hysteria and that possibility is quickly abandoned. No doubt the circumstances of the things conception are what has her in such a state. It irks Mother Superior that the rapist most likely will not be brought to justice but she consoles herself with the knowledge that the cretin will inevitably face the Lord’s judgment for that act as for all his other undoubtedly countless indiscretions. If it was one of the inmates of the asylum, he’s most likely already suffering anyway. 

The child is able to be moved before Amanda is. When she begins to regain her lucidity, she is profoundly relieved to be told that it’s no longer on the premises but in the days that follow that relief dissolves into a mix of guilt and anxiety. The sooner she can be sent away, the better. On the night before Amanda is meant to depart she disappears briefly only to be brought back two hours later by guards from the asylum. They said they found her in the neglected courtyard behind the building, in the pouring rain, seemingly searching for something in the ivy on the stone wall. She doesn’t resist capture and comes quietly back to the convent. 

A few months following her safe relocation, there’s an incident at asylum. A riot breaks out that takes over a day to be put down. The guards are quickly overwhelmed (there’s not nearly enough of them to handle the entire inmate population) and twelve of them are killed before police reinforcements arrive. In the aftermath death certificates are written for fifteen inmates and twenty are recorded as “missing.” A brief investigation is conducted, mostly for the satisfaction of the guards families, the cause of the riot is eventually determined. 

Apparently it had started as just two men fighting over a strange little box made out of wood and metal. Several of the inmates claim to have seen it and attempt to describe it but no one can say where it came from and no one seems to know where it’s gone. The two specific men in question also seem to have vanished. The police investigation eventually winds up writing the incident off as a “freak occurrence” but the resulting deaths draw enough outrage from the right people that the facility is eventually closed. The inmates are scattered to the winds (shipped off to various prisons and asylums throughout the country) and the building is left to stand empty.


End file.
